


At the End of All Things

by Halfblood_Fiend



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Red Templar Cullen, Blood and Gore, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:59:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5036509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfblood_Fiend/pseuds/Halfblood_Fiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What should have been a simple mission to cripple Corypheus' forces goes south, and now Inquisitor Trevelyan must race against time to free the man she loves before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to keep this story relatively in line with my game canon, so while Viktoriea still technically sided with the Templars, she only freed those that were at Therinfal Redoubt. I always thought that it was weird that the game tries to tell you these are all the Templars in the world but, in this story, all the seemingly missing Templars became Red Templars. It just sort of made sense to me that Corypheus would employ both, game plot aside.
> 
> So this is an AU where Cullen falls under the influence of Red Lyrium.
> 
> Enjoy.

The tension around the War Table was palpable.

Viktoriea could have sliced right through it with her boot knife. She _wanted_ to. Then maybe that would ease the painful knot that had tied itself around her stomach as everyone present listened with rapt attention to Leliana’s report on Corypheus’ gathering forces.

She glanced around the stifling room at all the faces, ranging from furious to anxious and everything in between. Her usual advisors were there, joined by Ser Barris, his highest ranked Templar officials, Varric, Cassandra, and Cole, her trusted team, and the remaining living scouts who had gathered Leliana’s intel.

Her hands clenched and unclenched at her side, her nails digging painful half-moons across her palms. The pain was a reminder to her, a distraction from the crushing weight of fruitlessness that settled on her shoulders. It had been only a few weeks since the victory over the Wardens at Adamant Fortress, if it could be called that. And while the loss of Corypheus’ grip on the Wardens was supposed to loosen his hold on everything else, it seemed that the Red Templars and the Venatori both only became more dangerous. They grew bolder and more random and only more destructive. Viktoriea equated herself to attempting to patch a boat full of holes. It would never matter how many holes she stopped up, the boat was _still_ full of water, and it was _still_ _sinking_.

Commander Cullen must have sensed her agitation. He quietly slipped his hand into hers beneath the War Table and squeezed. The gentle pressure made Viktoriea take a measured exhale, willing the iron bands around her chest to loosen.

While it may have seemed like she was grasping at straws, at least she wasn’t the only one feeling her way along blindly. She felt a wry smile play on her mouth. Could that even be _called_ a blessing? The world was going to hell around her, but Maker, at least she had someone to sit with her as they all died.

She pulled her hand away from Cullen’s and pressed both her palms into her eyes to stop the exhausted, overwhelmed tears from falling at this horribly inopportune time.

“Tingles?” Varric asked quietly, touching her elbow.

All Viktoriea could answer with was a curt nod.

The double doors behind them burst open, and the whole room jumped. Hands flew to their sword hilts, everyone on edge. But it was only Knight-Captain Rylen in the doorway.

“My apologies for my tardiness,” he said to the room at large, motioning for his soldiers to file in behind him. “I would have waited patiently in the lobby for my turn to talk, but…this _cannot_ wait.”

His men carried the splintered remains of a wooden crate into the room and deposited it onto the War Table with a solid thump that made Viktoriea jump again.

Rylen sauntered his way towards the crate and tugged at the snapping wooden panels, illuminating his face with a ghostly red glow.

“Red Lyrium,” he said with finality. “But _that_ is not what is so important. It was accompanied by a squadron of _ten_ Red Templars. Odd, I thought. So many to escort one lousy case of this shit.” He paused and glared at everyone, as if looking for someone to snap at for not paying attention. However everyone listened so intently that they seemed to forget how to breathe. “That’s because the Lyrium wasn’t the important bit.” He snapped his fingers and another soldier ran forward with an ornamented scroll. “This was. It’s a message from the Venatori leader Calpurnia, to that blighted Sampson. Corypheus means to have the two of his puppets meet, and attack us as _one_ _unified_ _force_.”

Uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Viktoriea shuddered, and from the hushed murmur that spread over them, she was not the only one that realized what this meant.

“The Red Templars and the Venatori together will be a force to be reckoned with, and even without the Wardens, it could still be enough to wipe _us_ from the board entirely.”

Nods and murmurs of assent greeted this. Something like cold dread clamped over Viktoriea’s heart. She clutched at her throat and stared at the crimson crystals just visible through the gaps between the crate’s slats. Corypheus could end them, just like that, with or without the Anchor, regardless of the disorganization in his ranks. Bringing Calpurnia and Sampson together would spell doom for all of Thedas as surely as any breach in the sky.

“They are making their move, and _soon_. We need to cut them off before they do! My soldiers have discovered their route at great loss of life—”

“And how do we _know_ if this information is correct?” Leliana cut in. “Will you have us charge forward? What if it is a trap?”

“Do not underestimate me, Spymaster,” Rylen practically spat, never looking at the woman. He leaned heavily on the table, dark blue eyes fixed determinedly on the wall. “You think I would have sent all those men to their _deaths_ if I didn’t think of that? You don’t go out of your way to slaughter a whole _battalion_ to hide a _planted_ trail…” The glare he finally fixed her with was sharp enough to cut glass. His lip curled a little as he spoke his next words. “Only someone desperate to cover up their _true_ intensions would track them _all_ down to _butcher_ them like cattle.”

Only when Leliana made to retort against the shaking man, did Viktoriea raise her voice. “You have my condolences for the loss of your soldiers, Captain Rylen,” she told him, silencing Leliana with a look. She remembered the well-meaning peace-talkers of the Conclave, Ser Nevin, and Warden Stroud, and every other Inquisition soldier or scout they had ever lost during this blighted war. “We have all felt the sting of Corypheus’ sword.” Rylen’s jaw worked tightly but he neither looked at her nor said anything against her. “I will not let any more loss of life on our end go unpaid for. We looked for a more guaranteed way to weaken this Magister-Would-Be-God and now an opportunity has presented itself to us. We should take it. If we can kill Samson, we can scatter the Red Templars—” Her gaze shifted to Ser Barris who nodded seriously, his brows pulling resolutely over his eyes. His confidence bolstered her own. “We will take Captain Rylen’s information, and use it to our advantage. If the Red Templars believe they have snuffed out our intelligence with the sacrifice of Rylen’s men, then they didn’t lose their lives in vain; they _gave_ us the element of surprise. We will _find_ these Red Templars along their back route, and _stamp_ out this corruption _once_ and _for_ _all_.”

Uproarious shouts resounded from around the table.

Ser Barris saluted her with his fist over his heart. “We are with you, Inquisitor! Allow _us_ to lead the charge! I have a score to settle with the bastards that corrupted my Order!”

The Templars behind him stamped their feet and beat their fists against their breast plates.

“If _anyone_ is going to stab those bastards in the eyes, it’s _me!”_ shot Rylen fiercely.

Viktoriea held up her hands but the roused soldiers were already shouting at one another. Cassandra’s and Leliana’s voices joined the din, trying to separate the quarrels among allies.

_“Enough!”_ roared Cullen from his place beside her and the room fell silent again. Viktoriea shivered slightly and marveled at just how intimidating the _Commander_ could be.

“If we are to stand a chance in catching the Red Templars by surprise we cannot arrive at their doorstep with an _army!_ Take your heads from your asses and stop squabbling amongst yourselves! We attack with only a handful of the elite accompanied the Inquisitor and myself at their head. Is that clear?”

Begrudgingly, they relented; Barris offering himself and his right hand knight, and Rylen swearing that his sword alone would be a force to be reckoned with.

“Then it is settled,” Viktoriea said curtly, “Captain, you will show us the way. Arm yourselves, men. We leave as soon as we are able.” _Because I will not see us defeated again_ , Viktoriea added vehemently to herself. Corypheus’ minions were not going to slip out of their clutches this time. She would make _damn_ sure of that.

As everyone filtered out, Viktoriea lingered in the War Room. Cullen cocked his eyebrow inquisitively at her, but when she nodded him away, he, too, withdrew to prepare, leaving only a quick brush of their fingers for comfort. She kept her eyes transfixed on the crate of luminescent and abhorrent crystals. They whispered, low and enticing, and she felt her mana almost sway in time with their song. She longed to touch the throbbing crystals. To hurl the infernal things at the wall until they shattered into a thousand glittering fragments, glinting like drops of blood on the floor. She reached her hand forward decisively.

“Viktoriea,” Leliana said shortly, drawing her from her reverie, making her hand snap back against her chest. She held it there with her other hand as she turned to face the Spymaster, afraid she could lose herself again. _What had gotten into her?_

Leliana was keen. She caught the motion with her eyes, no matter how infinitesimal but instead of drawing attention to Viktoriea’s panting breaths and fluttering heart, she stepped between her and the lyrium. The line of sight broken, the trance was shattered. The murmurs silenced and Viktoriea breathed easier.

“You’ve got to know this doesn’t feel right,” Leliana told her seriously.

“I think you’re paranoid,” Viktoriea shot back.

“With good reason!”

“Maybe. But I also think that the Maker has given us an opening. He’s laid a chance for us at our feet. We cannot be fools and overlook His gift just because it could be dangerous.”

“It could be reckless,” Leliana said through gritted teeth. “We don’t know enough, Viktoriea. And the Captain’s judgement is _clouded_. Surely you _see_ that! He is acting only out of a desire for revenge.”

Viktoriea considered her words for a moment, the same feeling weighing down her chest. She had lost too many close to her heart, and every time she sent more soldiers to the front lines, she could have wept for the families they would never see again. It seemed that as every day passed, this war she waged became more about getting even than about saving the world from tears in the Veil.

“Aren’t we all?” she retorted darkly. She spun on her heel and left Leliana alone behind her.

***

Hoof beats of eight Fereldan Forders boomed against the mountains like thunder and marked the departure of the elite ambushing team from Skyhold. No one said a word over the wind roaring in their ears as they raced to meet the Red Templars before its convoy could made it over the Frostbacks into Fereldan. Even Varric had the grace to stay his complaining for once, bouncing uncomfortably in the saddle in strained silence. Viktoriea didn’t even have it in her to make fun of his tortured expression. Not this time.

They were all business amid the swirling snow of the peaks, all determination and ruthlessness. With this attack, they could decisively end Corypheus’ mad reign of terror and turn the tide that would spiral him towards his destruction. No one had to tell them what was at stake. They felt it in the ice at their hearts, they felt it in the sing of battle in their blood, they saw it all around them in every tree and rock that made up Thedas. Take Samson. Strike down the Red Templars. Otherwise spell doom for the world as they knew it.

Viktoriea didn’t flinch away from her duty any longer. She was stout, and rode her horse nearly as fiercely as Knight-Captain Rylen spurred his mare forward. They stopped little, spoke less, and pushed ahead.

As far as any of them were concerned, they had already lost time.

Even now, the Red Templars marched their way across Orlais along the back road. Perhaps they had already reached the long valley, the only other means besides the King’s Road to get through the Frostbacks. Perhaps they had passed by now and the Inquisition’s small party now raced across the deadly terrain for nothing.

_No_ , Viktoriea told herself vehemently, she could not afford to think so negatively.

Camps were made hastily and torn down promptly. They took watch in rotations through the night, but to what end, Viktoriea was unsure. If the long whispered conversations she and Cullen had throughout the night were any indication, none of their party were sleeping much. At least Cullen would let her curl against his chest and pretend to sleep, caressing her arm in long, rhythmic strokes. His movements soothed her racing mind, she only hoped her closeness and soft kisses eased his.

Before dawn each morning they were off again, racing towards uncertainty.

It took them three days to reach the valley and that evening they settled into the woodland underbrush of the foothills, casting the running river below nervous glances. From their camp they had a clear view of the only pass in, the river meandering through the base of the valley, and the only pass out. They had enough rations to stake out another week. Unless they had missed the Red Templars entirely, they had nothing else to do but settle in and wait.

To Viktoriea, the waiting proved more trying than anything else thus far. The dried meat became tasteless, her nerves became frayed; she would shoot lightning into the empty air for nothing else but to _do_ something.

The conversations were terse and quiet. Rylen’s usual cynical-self replaced with dark brooding. Ser Barris’ wide smile vanished. Even Varric was unwilling to spin them any tales. Only Cole fretted uneasily, constantly, whispering the fearful words they each had on their mind. They tried their best to ignore him, but perhaps there was peace to be found in knowing they all felt the exact same. The fearful waiting, the exhausted heaviness, sapped everything from their spirits. Viktoriea’s only comfort was Cullen’s hand, always on her body: her shoulder, her knee, her fingers intertwined with his. They sought each other out this way, and spoke more volumes than they ever could have said with words.

At the dawning of the second day, Cassandra caught sight of the smoke in the distance.

Strained bickering almost immediately erupted about the best course of action; whether they should wait for the Red Templars to come to them or whether they should meet the force head on before they could all come into the valley. Before they could make a consensus, Cole had slipped away and came back while they still argued.

“Three.”

“What?” Cassandra snapped.

“There are three.”

“ _What_ is the spirit talking about?” Rylen snarled a bit too fiercely.

Cole backtracked, playing uneasily with the hem of his frayed tunic.

Viktoriea shot them all withering glances and crept closer to Cole, laying a light hand on the boy’s arm. “What do you mean, Cole? We don’t understand.”

His pale eyes met hers uncertainly from beneath the wide brim of his hat. He glanced back towards the mouth of the valley. “There are three Red Templars, Viktoriea. I saw them while you fought. I snuck close. Quiet. No one can see me, if I don’t want them to.”

“Yes,” she pressed gently, “but how can there be only _three?”_

Cole met each of their startled faces. “Not what you expected. There must be more. But there isn’t. There are only _three_ Red Templars in the valley.”

“Fuck!” Rylen swore, throwing his helmet to the ground. “We missed them then! We have nothing but _BLASTED STRAGGLERS_ for a _consolation prize!”_

Silence met his outburst. Viktoriea was hard pressed to argue with his words. The disappointment, the feeling of failing _again_ , bit at her fiercely. Was that it then? Was the world lost so easily? As simple as a string that slipped from between her fingers.

_“Then we take it!”_ Cullen murmured firmly. His heavy brow knit. He bored confidence back into each of their hearts in turn with his determined stare. “That makes three less in the world. And if we can get information out of them, more the better!”

Viktoriea met his blazing gaze and nodded. “We wait for them to make their camp for the night and then we kill them. _And then_ , we overtake the others. Samson will reach the Venatori over my rotting corpse!”

Ser Barris nodded. “Any strike we make is _still_ a blow. We should not lose our faith so quickly. My shield is behind you still, Inquisitor.”

The company broke down their own camp in a silence that stifled Viktoriea and threatened to choke her. She watched her companions shift nervously, glancing towards the fire in the distance, thumbing their weapons, muttering to themselves. Viktoriea herself felt sick with the anticipation of it. The disappointment sat sticky and immovable in her stomach, despite her rousing words. If these last three monsters were the stragglers then that meant they were now _days_ behind the full force. They were _days_ behind Samson, and further from what should have been a simple victory.

Try as she might to shake the sickness as they picked their way through the brush towards the Red Templar camp, it refused to dislodge. Waves of anxious nausea clouded her body and swam in her vison, clung to her like the nightmarish apparitions of the Fade at Adamant. She couldn’t shake the red-tinged visions, or the leaping shadows.

They reached the outskirts of the camp by nightfall, taking care to stay far away from the flickering light of the flames. They fanned out silently, falling into the formation they had discussed over and over during their decent. Wait for Cole’s signal. Make it quick. Make it quiet. If they were given the chance, the Red Templars could turn themselves to monsters that would take more effort and coordination to take down; an effort that was better spent chasing down the rest of their brethren.

Cullen’s fingers squeezed hers in the darkness for an instant before the absence of his heat left her shivering. Her fingers still tingled from his touch and her pounding heart was quieted.

There were only three Red Templars. There was no reason to be so anxious. Her grip tightened on her staff.

Cole’s signal came in the form of a man’s dying shriek.

Viktoriea Fade-stepped forward from the shelter of trees, her magic leaping wildly through her veins, sparking like her lightning. She cast herself a barrier as he ran and leapt into the small clearing, already twirling her staff. Cole had disappeared back into the shadows, the only trace of him was in the Red Templar slumped forward onto he ground. Blood poured into the dirt from the deep double wounds on either side of his throat. The other two Red Templars had sprung into action, their swords drawn, searching for their invisible assailant. They spun on Viktoriea and pointed, twisted mouths leering, when _THWACK!_ A bolt from Bianca lodged itself wetly into the nearest man’s neck. As the hulking monstrosity turned to roar into the darkness, Viktoriea’s lightning crackled to life over her arms and she sent the tendrils arcing forward with a throw of her body.

Her Templars all burst from their hiding places with loud taunting war cries and they descended upon the confused enemies. Their combined force made short work of the second monster, falling with an earsplitting shriek and the cracking of crystals.

The last had managed to ingest more Red Lyrium from the pouch in his belt during the chaos. His agonized screams split the battlefield. He hunched over as he transformed, ragged breaths gasped in huffs of torment as his flesh bubbled like hot water and his skin tore with freshly grown crystals of lyrium.

Viktoriea spun her staff back around to catch her balance and raised her hand, ready to shoot the monster full of lightning enough to stun it. But Captain Rylen charged forward against the monster, baring his teeth and with one flashing arc of his sword, cleaved the beast’s head clean from its shoulders. With a spurt of black blood it collapsed, still convulsing, its head landing wetly somewhere in the brush. He spat scornfully on the dying creature.

She nodded at Rylen and scanned her surroundings in the sudden quiet.

One small tent was set up beside the fire, making both appear squeezed into the tiny clearing. _One tent, for three men?_ Viktoriea puzzled.

She reached its entrance in two long strides, her fingers trembling violently as she reached for the flap.

_Adrenaline_ , she told herself. Adrenaline pulsed in her still, not dread.

Her companions crowded around behind her to peer into the tent.

Viktoriea retched at the smell.

In the center of the small space, illuminated by one flickering lantern, was a severed head, speared into he ground upon a stake. The face was mottled, dark eyes sunken, slack mouth twisted into a tormented expression of abject terror. Its long black hair was matted by thick, congealed blood against the grotesque, pale skin.

“T-T-That’s _Samson_!” Ser Barris gasped in horror.

Viktoriea wanted to ask if he was sure, but the icy sinking feeling that dripped from her crown to her toes told her that it was true.

A deep, bloodcurdling scream echoed across the copse of trees to them, making everyone jump and spin, weapons leveled and ready against another attack.

_That sounded almost like_ —

Panicked, Viktoriea glanced around her companions and counted faces. _How could she have not noticed?!_

Cullen screamed again in the distance.

“CULLEN!” she screeched in terror, sprinting away before anyone could recover or call her back.

“VIKTORIEA!”

_“CULLEN!”_

She Fade-stepped forward, ice spreading in wilting fractals wherever she stepped.

_“CULLEN!!!”_

A massive Red Templar appeared in her path. She gawked up open-mouthed at it, unable to connect attacking the thing with her petrified brain. All she cared about—all she could _possibly_ care about—was getting to Cullen. Was finding him, was—

Its mighty fist came down over her head and Viktoriea crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.


End file.
